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The Id and The Odyssey; Episode 65

A Phone Call

Before the end of
the week Sam hired Gordon Winslow. He was a University of Maine
graduate with a year’s experience in the newsroom of a Boston radio
station. He was a burly bristle haired man in his early twenties with
a perpetual five o’clock shadow.

It was early
October. Leaves were at their absolute peak in vibrancy. The
reflection of red leaves on the bay shore made it seem ablaze. There
is a certain convivial feeling about the northeast in the fall. It is
as if the region was made for those few brief weeks when all seems
aglow. It was the type of days that Rich lived for. He felt alive and
full. The air was crisp and invigorating.

It was during
that time Rich found it impossible to drive out to Dennis’s and
Peggy’s. He really was busy, however, he had been busier and found
the time to drop by in the past. Even though the plan was to
gradually withdraw from Dennis and Peggy, it was impossible for him
to do so. Their company and friendship was addictive.

It was
stubbornness and personal pride that kept him from driving to their
home. He thought if the meeting appeared chance or by accident his
personal principles could be salvaged. Rich looked for them at their
favorite haunts in Rockland, hoping to see them by accident, but they
were nowhere to be found. They would be easy to spot. The summer was
over, the tourists had gone, and everything seemed abandoned. A few
places had even closed for the season.

Rich finished
work at six by placing a small stack of copy on Rudy’s front desk.
He paper-clipped a note to it. How does this look, Mr. Kent. I sure
hope it’s swell - J. Olsen.

Rich drove to a
restaurant just outside town on the way to Port Clyde. Dennis and
Peggy occasionally ate there.

He walked inside
and said to the waitress, “Have Dennis and Peggy been in lately?”

“I haven’t
seen them in several weeks. Come to think of it, it was August for
sure. They came in here with an older couple. I thought at first it
might have been one of their parents, but they left and Dennis rushed
back in to give me a tip. He said they were art patrons and thought
that tipping was vulgar and that was the last I saw of them.”

Rich had an
impulse to leave and take the thirty minute drive to their place, but
he stayed. “Can you get me a Pepsi, fries, and a burger and wrap up
a coconut cream pie to go.”

It started to
rain while Rich ate. He ran outside and put the canvass top on the
jeep. His heart leaped. He saw Dennis’s and Peggy’s car drive by.
He waved. Peggy was the only one in the car and she didn’t notice
Rich.

Rich went back in
and the waitress said, “You won’t be takin’ that canvass off
again till June.”

“This will by
my second winter,” Rich said.

“Braggin’ or
complainin’,” she said.

“I wouldn’t
trade this place or you for Florida and all its pretty waitresses,”
Rich said.

“You’re still
payin’,” she said. “Fresh.”

“I’ll even
leave a vulgar tip,” Rich said.

Rich drove back
to the apartment, slid the pie into the refrigerator, and turned the
valve to the radiator on. He sat in his chair and reminisced how the
apartment appeared a year ago. He now had a stereo record player with
a small album collection. There was a book shelf partially filled. He
stood and looked out at the harbor and the refection of the lights
off the water.

Rich thought, “A
little more than a year ago I was peddling my way across
Pennsylvania. I have come a long way. I don’t think I can ever
return.”

He turned and
stared at the phone on the nightstand. He thought about his old
friend, Don. Rich pulled a tablet from the book shelf and found Don’s
number and called long distance. “If anybody except Don answers
I’ll hang up,” he thought.

The phone picked
up on the second ring, “Hello.”

It was Don.

“Don, this is
Rich.”

“Are you home?”
Don asked.

“No,” Rich
said.

“Where are
you?”

“I can’t tell
you, but I just wanted to let you know I’m fine,” Rich said.

“Everybody
thinks you’re in Chicago or California.” Don said.

“Keep this call
between the two of us, but if you should feel as though you can’t,
tell Mom and Dad I’m fine and healthy. I got a job and an
apartment.” Rich said. “Tell them that if I talk to them it would
be just too hard on both of us.”

“Don’t
worry,” Don said. “I can keep it quiet. And by the way, thanks
for the twenty.”

“I didn’t
want you to think the reason why I skipped town was because I owed
you money,” Rich said.

“I was talkin’
to Ole man Kratzer a few days ago and he said ya joined the Navy -
you wanted to be like him,” Don said.

Rich laughed. “If
I wanted to be like him I’d have to forget everything I know and
drag my knuckles on the ground.”

“You haven’t
lost you sense of humor,” Don said.

“How’s Mom
and Dad doing?” Rich said.

“Your Dad
doesn’t drink anymore, but he doesn’t drink any less either,”
Don said. “Your Mom missed some work at first, but I hear she’s
going to get a realtor’s license.”

“It’s good to
hear they’re doing good,” Rich said. “If I talk any longer
you’ll have me spillin’ my guts. Seriously, my life is good. I’ll
call again and maybe someday we can get together. I‘d like for you
to visit me some day.”

“Let me know
the time and place,” Don said.

“Oh I almost
forgot, if you do talk to Mom and Dad about me tell them I have a son
- just kidding, not true, but I had ya. Take care. Good bye,” Rich
said.

“Good bye,”
Don said laughing.

Rich
placed the phone slowly on the receiver and smiled contentedly. He
spent the evening like many of his other evenings. He brewed a cup of
tea and ate his pie. He selected some albums to listen to and read.

From Kenton Lewis: You Must Read This First To Know What The Heck Goes On Here

This site contains mostly fiction. Currently a novel is posted every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday entitled Beyond Beyond. It is broken down into short episodes between two and four pages each. Thus, if you enter on anything other than episode 1, it would be good the scroll down to find previous episodes.

The archives are full of short stories. Some short stories are very short, just one posting. Others are broken down into episodes also.

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This Is He

Taken shortly after my beheading. I refused to give up coffee. "Not from my cold dead hands!"